Looper

by Ann Bakshis

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” he says, placing his untouched drink onto the coffee table in front of us.

  I try to do the same, but find myself drinking the rest of the concoction instead. My head is starting to feel light, almost as if it’ll detach from my shoulders. I look over at Frey noticing he has a funny look on his face. He’s smiling and his eyes are dancing with flames in their irises.

  “What’s wrong with you?” I ask, almost slurring my words.

  “Nothing.” He moves closer, pulling part of the blanket over himself. “What else did you do?”

  I’m having a hard time focusing on what I was talking about. I try to respond, but I’m too distracted by Frey getting closer. His leg bumps into mine, then moves on top of it. He takes his hand and removes the towel from my head, causing my damp hair to fall.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, but my voice sounds disconnected from my body.

  “Nothing. I just thought you’d be more comfortable with that off your head. Besides, you shouldn’t hide such beautiful hair even if it is wet.” He runs his fingers through a couple of strands, letting them fall gently over my shoulder. “Why don’t you tell me more about the Outer Limits? It had to have been hell living there.”

  “It had its moments. Once I learned that my life wasn’t my own, I adjusted. The punishments stopped, and the Aedox left me alone.”

  He takes one of my hands and turns it palm up. “How did you get these?” he asks, stroking my fingers.

  I try and pull away, but I’m too relaxed to move. It’s almost like my body is out of my control. “The Aedox did this to me, just before I was selected for The Litarian Battles,” I say without even thinking. “But I don’t know how or why.”

  Frey takes my hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses it. He leans over touching my cheek before kissing me on the lips. I fall backwards onto the couch, Frey following, lying on top of me. He throws the blanket to the floor, unfastens my robe, and begins kissing every scar he sees. I find myself enjoying his touch, his closeness. His hands search, finding areas I didn’t know needed tending. I know this is wrong, but I’m allowing it to happen, at least I think so.

  Heat builds between us and I don’t want it to stop. Part of me is hoping that Brink finds out that I slept with someone. I want him to feel rage at my actions. I want the thought of me having sex with Frey to anger him, taking him to the breaking point. This thought drives me on, heightening the pleasure. Frey kisses me hard on the lips, then pulls the blanket from the floor to cover our naked bodies. He holds me tight against his chest as he runs his fingers up and down my spine. My euphoric feeling turns into tiredness and I find myself dozing off.

  When I wake, I’m wrapped in the blanket on top of my bed.

  Did what I think just happened, happen? I would never succumb so easily like that. Could I’ve been drugged? Why would Frey do that?

  The storm outside has diminished to a slight drizzle. I get up and head into the bathroom for a quick shower. It takes me over thirty minutes to clean the sand from my toes and legs. After I’m dry, I pull on black cotton lounge pants, a gray sweatshirt, and a pair of socks since my feet are unbelievably cold. I find Frey sitting in the common room watching a music video and dressed in almost the same attire as me, but instead his sweatshirt is dark blue.

  “Did you drug me?” I ask when I enter.

  “What? What kind of question is that, Max?” he responds, clearly irritated by the suggestion.

  “I’m just making sure that I was acting of my own free will and not being manipulated, which is something everyone in Tarsus is good at.”

  “I would never force anyone to do something they didn’t want to.”

  I don’t know if I fully believe him or not, so I let the air settle before I speak again. “How can you watch that stuff?” I ask, pointing to the display and trying to diffuse the tension now in the room.

  “You don’t have this in the Outer Limits? It’s entertainment. It takes real talent to put something like this together.”

  “The only programming ever on is The Litarian Battles,” I answer. “It’s on all the time.”

  “Huh,” is his only response.

  I try and watch the mess on the display, but it’s starting to hurt my head. I get up, head towards the kitchen, and open the fridge and cabinets looking for something to snack on, but nothing looks appealing. I locate glasses in the upper cabinet next to the fridge, and as I reach up to get one Frey wraps his arms around my waist pulling me into him. I didn’t even hear him approach.

  “Will you stop?” I say.

  He lets go, allowing me to take the glass I’d been reaching for. I fill it with water and go back to the common room, but Frey stays in the kitchen. He returns a few minutes later with crackers and cheese. We munch on them while looking for something else to watch. I clean up the plate while Frey goes towards the bedrooms, emerging a few minutes later with shoes on and a pair in his hands for me.

  “It stopped raining, so let’s head outside,” he says, handing me the shoes.

  I glance out the window and see that night has set in. “Why now? It’s dark. We won’t be able to see anything.”

  “Trust me, Max, there’s something I want to show you.” He extends his hand out to me after I’ve secured the shoes on my feet.

  I take it and he escorts me to the front door. Lights illuminate the damp pathway to the entrance and down to the main road. We follow it, turning right at the end of the drive. Each house along the road has some kind of light shining at the end of their driveway and all the way to the entrance. People are milling about inside their homes. We can’t see much, but it’s enough to know that no one here thinks about privacy or curtains. We continue north for about twenty minutes, coming upon a large complex, only it’s not a complex, but a house. One so large it makes Frey’s look like a shack.

  We turn up the path and are still some distance from the entrance when I hear music thumping through the open windows. Frey takes my hand as we step on the porch, and he rings the bell. The door appears to open automatically and we step forward into a great foyer containing marble statues, pure white tile floors, and a staircase ascending three stories. Frey pulls me to the left and we follow the music down an elaborately decorated hallway to a large common room on the right. We have to descend two steps before we can fully enter the room. The carpet is lush and I almost sink into it. The walls are paneled in maple, with various displays hanging all around, each one playing a different music video.

  There are only a handful of people mingling about, but one stands out to me immediately. I don’t need to see his face to know that Brink is standing in the corner pouring drinks from the bar. I try and slip behind Frey, but he nudges me forward and introduces me to the owner of the house. Or at least, the son of the owner.

  “Troy, this is Max,” Frey says.

  We shake hands, but I instantly dislike the man. He’s taller than Frey, but only by an inch. His blond hair is cut short, but still long enough that it brushes the tops of his ears. He’s extremely muscular, almost causing his shirt to rip. A dragon’s tail peeks out from under the sleeve of his right arm. He sneers when he smiles, but I can’t tell if it’s just natural, or if there’s something more behind it.

  “So you’re Max,” he says, still holding my hand. “Brink has told me a lot about you.”

  Great, I wonder what sordid tale he wove. He probably made it sound like we were an item in the Outer Limits. Like I was one of his conquests, though I think he’s still a virgin. I wish Frey hadn’t brought me here.

  “Oh,” is what I reply.

  Troy looks down at my other hand, noticing I’m gripping onto Frey. He frowns slightly, but recovers. “So, Frey, is Max yours now? My how quickly we change beds,” Troy says more to me, than Frey.

  I’m on the verge of punching Troy when Frey pulls me away, escorting me out of the room and down the hall. We enter what Frey calls a trophy room, but all I see are dead carcasses of animals long
extinct. Sitting in the middle of the menagerie is a bow and arrow with a plaque underneath. I let go of Frey and try to get closer to the weapon so I can read what’s written.

  Owner: Jack Larsen – highest pointed participant in the history of The Litarian Battles.

  “Who’s Jack Larsen?” I ask Frey, after he’s made his way over to me.

  “He is Troy’s older brother. He’s the only one in history to have reached fifty thousand points in The Litarian Battles. The Keepers let his family keep the weapon he used before sending him off to live in Icarian.”

  I instinctively begin to reach for it, but Frey grabs my arm, halting my progress.

  “Same rules apply here as they do in The Litarian Battles. Only Jack can handle it. Watch.” Frey takes his hand and tries to grab a hold of the bow, but his hand falls right through it, almost like the weapon is only an image and not a solid object.”

  “Hey, Frey,” Troy calls from the doorway. “Stop dicking around with Jack’s shit. I’ve got something you’ll want to see.”

  Frey follows Troy and they disappear.

  I look back over at the bow, then down at my hand, and begin to wonder.

  Was I damaged for a reason? Matron Kaniz told me that only the weapon’s owner can use it, no one else.

  I hesitate, but I know the longer I stay the more Frey will wonder where I am. I reach my hand out, hovering it above the bow, and slowly letting it fall. My skin makes contact, the smooth steel cold against my flesh. My palm wraps around the weapon and I pick it up. I don’t hold it for long, and put it back in its place. I should be startled with the discovery, but a voice in the back of my mind is telling me not to be. That I knew it would happen. But what did they do to my body to allow me such ability? And better yet, why?

  Ten

  Frey and Troy aren’t in the common room when I return. I try to escape before Brink sees me, but I’m not fast enough. He sidles up next to me, wraps his arm around my waist, and pulls me up against him. The smell of alcohol on his breath is heavy, and his eyes are a bit droopy. Everyone else in the room ignores us, which I’m fine with. Brink practically drags me over to an empty couch, pulling me down on top of him.

  “How I’ve missed you,” he says to me, groping my ass.

  I push myself up, and try to get off him, but he has a tight grip on my arm so I wind up on the floor with him now on top of me.

  “Brink, you’re drunk,” I say, working on maneuvering myself out from under him.

  “Just a little bit,” he answers.

  His hand begins making its way up my shirt. I push him away, but he seems to have gained strength since the last time I had to fight him off.

  “Get the fuck off of me!” I shout.

  “Now is that anyway to talk to your future mate.”

  He begins to kiss my neck, almost sucking on it. No one in the room is helping me, which is concerning.

  Are the people in Tarsus that morally corrupt that they’ll let anything happen? Is something like this a normal occurrence for them? Where do they draw the line on what people can and cannot do to each other?

  Brink is in the process of unbuttoning his pants when Frey lifts him up by the collar, throwing him across the room. Brink crashes into the paneling covering the wall, putting a massive dent in it. He gets to his feet, wipes the blood from his nose, and charges Frey. I swing my legs out, knocking Brink on his ass. Frey is punching him mercilessly to the point where Troy has to step in before Frey kills him.

  “The Keepers will not be happy if you kill him outside of the battles. Wait till he gets selected,” Troy says.

  Frey uncurls his hands, helps me to my feet, and we leave. The walk home is quiet and awkward. I’m glad Brink got his ass kicked, he deserved it. But now I feel as if Frey is taking it out on me with his silence. I’m not sure why I care so much, but being stuck with Frey for the next several days will only get worse if he stays quiet.

  When we’re back at his house, he escorts me to my bedroom door, kisses me, and heads down the hallway disappearing around the corner. I go inside, change my clothes, brush my teeth, and crawl under the covers. Falling asleep is easy, but I can’t stay asleep. Perhaps it’s because I’m in a strange place. My mind is working on overdrive trying to figure out the reason for my mutilation and what would happen to me if the Keepers found out. That last thought is what drives my eyes open. Or is it the murmuring of voices in the hallway just outside my door?

  “I’m telling you the truth, Nan,” Avery says, my door slowly opening and letting in a little light from the hallway.

  I quickly close my eyes and pretend I’m sleeping, but I strain my hearing to make sure I don’t miss anything.

  “Leader Fallon would never have allowed her to return to Tarsus,” a light, wispy female voice says.

  “Well, she did.”

  “Can you find out why?”

  “Doubtful. She’s been pretty tight-lipped lately. Hardly comes out of her compound now, which is odd.”

  I can tell they step deeper into the room, almost so close to me that I can feel their breath on my face.

  “Max does look a lot like her mother,” Nan says. “Do you think she’s just as dangerous?”

  “I don’t know, but that’s what I’m planning on finding out during their stay here.”

  The door closes and I’m alone. I automatically try to think back to my early childhood, but all I can remember is being at the orphanage.

  Am I really from Tarsus? How did I wind up in the Outer Limits? And where are my parents? Are they still alive? What else don’t I know?

  I begin to realize that my whole life seems to have been nothing but a lie. Everything that I am is not real. I start panicking. Anxiety expands to all areas of my body and I begin to shake. I’m about to get out of bed and splash some water on my face, but my body won’t move. I’m cemented to the mattress, but how? A green light catches my eye and I’m only able to move my head. A beam is emerging from the dragon statue on the nightstand, heading right towards me. I change directions and see the same light coming out of the other statue.

  The beams penetrate my temples and my mind is no longer under my control. I close my eyes, but all I see is destruction and bloodshed. Groups of Aedox are attacking the workers in the Outer Limits, gunning them down as they try to flee. Explosions level several units of the second-level housing. People run from the rubble. Some survivors are on fire. Screams fill my ears and it’s almost like they’re right next to me. I feel myself suffocating as I breathe in the polluted air. I’m seeing all this as if I’m participating in it, but I can’t control any of my actions. I know it’s not real. It just doesn’t feel real. A bright flash blinds me and when it dissipates I’m in Tarsus standing amongst the shoppers that line the roads.

  The ground shakes, knocking us all off our feet. Drones fly over our heads, dropping small devices to the ground that explode when they make contact with the stone pavement. Moans of the injured fill my head, but I still can’t move to help. The displays that dangle from every building change from their dazzling lights to a lone face. One I’ve seen recently.

  “You all brought this upon yourselves,” the woman says, her long red hair piled high atop her head. “There will be no peace until our society can be reformed, built up from the ashes of your lives.”

  More bombs drop, killing everyone around me, but I remain uninjured.

  “Give in to us, and you shall be spared.”

  The woman vanishes and is replaced by a bright green laurel, a wreath made of small branches, with a silver infinity sign in the center. I continue to stare at the symbol while the world around me burns. A unit of Aedox marches up the road shooting anyone still alive. They get close to me and I hold my breath, hoping I’m invisible. Instead of being shot, I’m hit in the side of the head with the butt from one of their guns and everything goes black.

  My eyes flash open and I have to blink a couple of times to bring them into focus. Sunlight floats into my room, telling me it
’s morning. I try to move my arms, but I can’t. My body feels like dead weight. I can move my head noticing that the green beams are gone, but I’m panicking from not being able to move.

  Frey enters my room a few moments later. When he sees the look on my face, he’s next to me in less than a second.

  “I can’t move,” I whisper since my breathing is out of control.

  “Did you have any nightmares?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you more than likely have sleep paralysis. It happens to me all the time. I’ll go get you some tea. It should help.” He leaves before I can tell him what happened.

  I’ve had plenty of nightmares before and have never woken up like this. I try to focus on getting my breathing under control, and it’s taking a lot of effort. Frey returns with a hot cup, he places his hand behind my head, and pushes me up slightly so he can bring the cup to my lips. I take small sips. The cinnamon tastes particularly strong this morning, but I do begin to feel better. The heat travels the length of my body and limbs, waking them up. After several minutes, I’m able to move. Frey sets the cup on the nightstand and sits next to me on the bed.

  “What did you see?” he asks, voice calm.

  I’m about to blurt out the details of the dream, but stop myself. Something is telling me to lie and not divulge anything. But why?

  “I was just dreaming about Brink attacking me again.”

  He looks to be contemplating my answer, then he kisses my cheek and leaves. I head into the bathroom, strip down, and take a long hot shower. My nerves are frayed. What did I see? Who put that in my mind and why? I make it a point to not sleep on the bed again. Once I’m dry and dressed, I head into the kitchen. A tall thin woman with sandy colored hair is leaning over the sink, rinsing out a bowl.

  “You must be Max,” she says, only glancing at me briefly.

  “Yes,” I say, hesitating whether or not I want to enter further into the room.

  “Are you hungry? Frey made breakfast before he left.”

  “He’s not here?”

  “He had an errand to run, but he should be back soon.”